


Cracked Lips

by nikirik



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikirik/pseuds/nikirik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As James entered the office on that winter morning, Lewis knew right away something was off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: All mistakes are mine.

As James entered the office on that winter morning, Lewis knew right away something was off.

But it took him a few minutes and three steps to the Sergeant's table to specify.

His lower lip was blooming purple and seemed to be split in two by a deep vertical chap.

"Did someone smacked your gob?" 

James had a funny look on him.

"If you're reffering to that definition of the word " _smack_ " which is a synonym to the verb " _slap_ ", then negative, Sir."

"Of course, smartarse," grumpily answered Robbie. "Who would've wanted to..."

He stopped abruptly digesting.

James gave him the tiniest of his smirks obviously trying not to twitch his lips more than necessary.

"It's just a crack. I sometimes get it then I'm carelessly _active_ on a windy day. _Sir_."

The careless activity could only be the one Robbie's Mom always warned him against. " _Don't snog too much in the cold weather or else_ ," she used to say. Or was it _"Don't make hay on a windy day?"_   But it was too late.

The image of James Hathaway snogging somebody till it bleeds made sparks run through his veins. 

"Then apply something and start with the paperwork," Lewis sounded exactly as displeased as he felt retreating to his workplace.

Fucking _brilliant_ way to start a Monday staring at his Sergeant who was bothering his chapped lips with his index finger and gazing distractedly into space. 

Lewis wished he'd stop with that. 

Or _else_.

 


	2. Monday, Mortuary

Laura called just before lunch, telling Lewis to send his "better half" to pick up some late reports.

Robbie sighed, relief and frustration mixed into one, thankful for a little reprieve from the intensity of the morning.

"Off you go," he waved at James, who jumped up eagerly, as if he'd been waiting for a chance to leave.

It didn't came unattended by Robbie's sharp eye and his brain short circuited with the vision of James running off to his ( _hypothetical_ ) lover.

"Jim," he blurted, stopping him right on the threshold. "Erm, don't... smoke today, could be bad for your lip." _Yeah, fine, nice work here, Robbie, pluses for subtlety and creativity._ He cringed inwardly.

The lad gave him an amused look.

"Wasn't up to," he softly answered. "Thanks... for your _concern_ , I guess?"

It was one of those awkward moments, then the question asked isn't on the surface of the conversation, but deep in the undertones. Not a rare occurance between them, Robbie must admit. And he brushed it away like always.

 

As soon as James was out of the door, Robbie felt itchy.

No, he was not gonna spy, but being a detective, it was in his nature to get to the bottom of things. _Even if they are unpleasant, which is the case most of the time._

That is why he shouldn't've been so surprised, but, _God_ , he was dumbfounded.

He must be hallucinating. He blinked but the scene didn't change: Laura's fingers were still on James' lips.

"Doc, what exactly are you doing to my Sergeant?"

"Oh, his virtue is intact, don't fret," came the lighthearted answer. "He was enjoying his special lip treatment."

James seemed to be as joyful as a deer in the headlights about to become a roadkill.

"Pardon me," he stuttered, disappearing as quickly as possible without running. 

Laura smirked totally unashamed.

"Charming, isn't he?"

"I thought you'd quit with the " _dishy_ "," Robbie snarled and slammed the door behind him.

This was getting weirder and weirder. Alice in Wonderland got nothing on him, did she?


	3. Monday, Lunch

Counting to ten obviously didn't help. Robbie almost wished for a fag, repeating to himself like a mantra: _None of my business, none of my sodding business, oh, bugger!_

Back in the office James was hiding behind his computer.

"Lunch?" grumpily offered Robbie, in desperate attempt to extend the olive branch.

"I'd rather not," answered James in his most polite voice, feigning sorrow. "Can't stretch my mouth enough... "

Robbie choked.

"For objects bigger than carrot sticks," his Sergeant continued nonchalantly.

"That is... deplorable," he forced himself to say, tangled in the sleeves of his coat. "Well, I'm out."

He was pretty sure, he heard a squeezed giggle. Or maybe he was just paranoid.

 

During lunch at the pub, which he was consuming absent-mindedly, he mulled over the obscure and obnoxious events of this most unpleasant morning. Either James dated Laura (which was inappropriate in so many ways!), or he was just pulling his leg (but Robbie couldn't regard it as conceivable, considering the amount of barefaced impudence implied).  
 _Still not my damn business,_ he thought sullenly. _Not James' fault I'm so abashed. And he missed lunch, maybe, I can get him some food he could eat through the straw..._

Slightly cheered up Robbie entered the nick with the milkshake in hand only to stumble upon the most vicious sight of Peterson, happily chatting up James. He could only see his back, but the look on Peterson's face was clearly salacious.

The milkshake made it to the floor, as Robbie tugged James at the arm.

"With me, Sergeant," he sounded murderous.

"Hey, we were in the middle of the conversation," Peterson tried to protest, but fell silent under the gloomy glare of Detective Inspector. "But of course if it's urgent...But I hope we'll continue soon, James!"

Seriously, what was _wrong_ with the people today?!


	4. Manic Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Title is from The Bangles.

  
They made it to the office in silence.

Robbie felt as if he was on the brink of the heart attack with all these daft people throwing themselves on James like horny rabbits.

"Alright," he tried to adjust his voice. "Enough is enough, lad."

At that moment somebody knocked on the door.

"What now?!" snapped Robbie.

"Gentelmen," said Chief Superintendent Innocent from the threshold. "The word is that DI Lewis threw a milkshake at DI Peterson in the hallway."

" _What?!_ Are we in kindergarten or something?"

"Sometimes I ask myself the same question. Oh, James, your poor lip... Was there a fight?!"

And that's where Robbie lost it.

"With all the respect, Ma'am, it's between me and my bagman," he snarled, gently but steadily shoving her out. "And concerning Peterson - I'll get a restraining order, if I must!"

As he turned around, James was grinning widely. 

That made the fresh skin on his lower lip crack again and a drop of blood was right in the middle.

Robbie reached out almost involuntarily to smear it with his finger.

James stopped smiling. 

"It's unhygienic," he hoarsely said. Robbie's hand fell. "Better lick it with the tongue. _Sir._ "

And so he did.

 

"So what was the deal with Peterson?" asked Robbie a while later.

"Oh, he just tried to sweet-talk me into a favour. He needed some research done and he figured I'd be the best candidate."

"Bastard. And Laura?"

"She cornered me. I was afraid she'll use one of her tools of torture on me."

"And that mysterious 'careless activity'?"

"I was rowing."

"You were _what_?! You smug bastard, you made me believe that... Oh, come here, lad, your lip is bleeding again."


End file.
